


Partners, friends and something in between.

by atomsmash



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 06:19:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5698159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atomsmash/pseuds/atomsmash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are pure random ramblings of things I want to do with Deacon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Purifier

**Author's Note:**

> My SS called herself Gyro Zeppeli after the apocalypse, because she could, yo.  
> She is crazy.  
> Also, spoilers as this is set after the main quest is over.  
> This will basically be her and Deacon doing random shit (and random fucking ssshh) because I need it.

Nothing made sense anymore. Not that anything ever made sense ever. Gyro was constantly on the verge of a mental breakdown since everything ended. Twice. She always thought that when her life eventually transformed in a fantastic adventure it would be pure awesome and nothing would hurt anymore except for bullets and everything would be all right. But this wasn’t the case. She transformed into the monster she knew she had inside but was constricted by civilization and laws. She could not stand the sight of her son as an old, crusty dude dying of cancer. She had to blow him up to bits.

  
She had Deacon all wrapped up in a blanket with her. He had that metallic smell of blood on him that drove her crazy. They were napping the day away. Deacon fell asleep with a book on his chest and a smoked to the filter cigarette hanging from his mouth. He kind of made fun of her for being more into fantasy novels than classics and she was kind of mad at him. She thought the days of taste shaming were over but apparently the book hipster gene survived even the big scary nuclear explosion.

  
She slept a couple of hours but she didn’t feel rested at all. Still, she was unable to sleep more due to the anxiety of Deacon waking up and maybe having energies and wanting to do things leaving her lazy ass behind. What if he left her behind while she was asleep to go harvest tobacco from cigarette land and found his perfect cigarette girlfriend whose paper never unrolled due to bad glue and saliva combination and they would smoke happily ever cancer. She rolled to her left side facing Deacon’s face, he was staring at her under his eyelids, she knew it his vision was capable of that, that’s why he always wore sunglasses to protect everyone’s soul from his piercing gaze of murder. She knew it and her leg was honestly not her leg anymore.

  
She was kissing Deacon but it was a dream so what if in real life she was kissing his armpit or Dogmeat. That wasn’t very lucid dream of her. When her teeth started feeling weak and moving she woke up. Felt them up, they were nice and steady. Deacon was eating one of her stinky stakes with his dirty hands.

  
“That’s...well” she commented.

  
“Best snack ever, only way to eat. Don’t judge” he was all up that steak.

  
“You go girl” she mumbled.

  
So Deacon was this special being above everything. He had traveled across cities, countries, galaxies and now he was beyond human, beyond love, beyond silverware. He had discovered the stuff, the spirit, the philosophy behind being a true cool mysterious person thing. He was intangible to the touch and pure in the body, he made a journey through revirgination without even believing in virginity. He was now the Messiah and he couldn’t be Gyro’s because wanting him was a Sin.

  
Gyro was a proud sinner thought. She couldn’t help but keep wanting to try and tempt him into her arms. But there was nothing to tempt. There was nothing she could say to him that would break his wall of Holy Coolness. He was the Holy Messiah of Chaos and she was just a work in progress Priestess of Apathy. She had work to do. Or not to do. Or not care about.  
“Deacon” said Gyro automatically, like a tic to get out of bad thoughts.

  
“Yes boss” he replied cleaning the barrel of his rifle. He was such a good cleaner. Gyro wanted to be purified by his hands made of cleansing soap. She wanted him to stroke the radiation poisoning away. Sometimes he reminded her of that bald guy with his arms crossed and a golden ear ring that advertised cleaning products. She always found him sexy, Mr Clean. She really didn’t have anything to say to him except for ‘ye sexy beast’.

  
“Your thoughts?” she said instead.

  
“All we need to do now is protect our books from those filthy nerd raiders. The worst kind of raiders” his left eye was looking through the barrel of his rifle. His biceps were shining defined by the sun and his sweat. She believed that his sweat was magical fertilizer. A gift of god for the Wastelands. God would be all like ‘yo there you go you deserve the apocalypse’ and then got pitiful and said ‘okay I’ve been mean take Deacon and his sweat’. Gyro believed in this truth.

  
“Do you think we can put some Xanax in the water purifier? For the raiders, for the psychotic mothers, amen” she uncontrollably said out loud.

  
“You being the psychotic mother” replied Deacon, his eyes fixed on the guns.

  
“Yup, I’d love me some Xanax, always” Gyro thought about the Xanax she couldn’t have and stretched her arm reaching for a pack of cigarettes. Wasteland drugs sucked. Everyone was so violent and only wanted to be more violent. How the fuck did anxious lazy people got extinct? She felt like her only kindred spirit in this day and age was Professor Goodfeels. She put a cigarette into her mouth and lighted it up with the shishkebab.

  
“Hardcore” said Deacon. Her lungs were so happy to finally be smoke filled again. She then exhaled melodramatically. Cigarettes always made moments into nice moments. No matter where you were, no matter with whom, no matter what you where doing. Cigarettes just made everything feel smoky and magical. What a device of the devil.

  
Deacon started cleaning Gyro’s guns. She was now jealous of dangerous metal she owned. Nice. The smoking intensified. Her guns were fucking filthy mistresses. Inhale. Bitches. Exhale. She thought about the Prof. Whoa, man. Far out. She was calm now. Her thing for cleaners was getting out of hand. She just wanted to reach for Deacon’s hand and touch it creating thousands of electrical sparks to scrap for generators to power their love nest with their own hand-crafted energy. Was it too much to ask? If Deacon could find the time to sit on the floor and listen to her talking about the magic system of the Azande he could definitely find the time to stroke his hand with her hand for a couple of hours. And maybe switch it up a bit. For fun. Or for the Railroad, you know, whatever made him happy.

  
“Why don’t you clean my guns?” said Gyro.

  
“I am cleaning your guns’ said Deacon holding a .50 caliber sniper rifle.

  
“I mean my guns” she insisted. She should have shown her biceps but she just sat on the floor with no expression on.

  
“Are you okay boss?” asked Deacon cleaning Deliverer’s silencer. This was pure torture. This was hell.

  
“I mean you could clean my pipes”

  
“You don’t have pipe pistols boss”

  
“You could clean my ass BRO”

  
“I’d rather not boss, I’m your sidekick not your baby sitter”

  
“You know Batman probably fucked Robin in the ass”

  
“Do you want me to fuck you in the ass boss?”

  
“YES” silence fell on earth. The wind stopped howling, crops stopped dancing at his will, three kilometers away, in Sanctuary, Sturges stopped banging on the houses, Preston kept his thoughts on the weather to himself, Strong smashed a boatfly in silence, in the whole commonwealth, for a minute, super mutants stopped screaming at people, raiders stopped screaming at drug hallucinations, in goodneighbor Hancock raised his eyes to the sky hopeful for the future, on a roof of the Boston Commons MacCready held his breath looking at his target through a gun sight, in Railroad HQ Glory died again.  
In Red Rocket truck stop Deacon took his sunglasses off. Gyro Zeppeli was scared and excited at the same time.

  
“You know maybe when we’re more comfortable with each other bodies?” he said.

  
“Yeah good makes sense. So, let’s get comfortable?” she said.

  
“Let’s” he said.

  
Deacon stood up and grabbed her body from the ground. He carried her in his arms and laid her on the bed made of her guns he already cleaned.

  
“I’m gonna clean you up like a gun. I’m gonna purify you” he said proceeding to take her shirt, her jeans, her bra and her panties off. He covered his hands with soap and started sliding on her whole body like a pro ice skater. For a moment, Gyro thought he was actually wearing a shining colorful leotard, but then he was magically naked. The guns under them became soft and comfy to provide support for their love making. The whole world was shifting to accommodate their needs. When he kissed her all the guns shoot a blank through them and created tiny little pleasure holes in their guts. They were in control, they were the center of the world and nothing could phase them. Deacon entered her like he was always meant to be inside her. She felt finally whole and holy.

  
“Is this what you want?” he said thrusting into her soul and keeping her sweaty hair off her eyes.

  
“Yes” she could only reply “I want this everyday” he grabbed her legs and kept going. She’d never felt like this. This was not sex. This was a holy experience in resurrection. She had never been alive before this. There was nothing dirty about it, dirty was what kept her going doing sex with previous partners, the dirtier she felt the wettest she was. This was the complete opposite. Deacon’s penis was a magic wand of purifying blessings.

  
“I can give it to you whenever you want, or whenever I want if you prefer” his voice panting from the hard work. She couldn’t even reply, her mouth was stuck open moaning pleasurable vocals.

  
“I can’t believe you carry all those guns with you everyday,” he whispered in her ear proceeding to come inside of her.


	2. Can you imagine

“Can you imagine a world in which we could ignore Paladin Danse and yet wouldn’t have to eventually blow his house, him and his friends up because, you know, war” Deacon was wearing Gyro’s freefall armor and looking down the ledge “also, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to do this”.

“You have to overcome your fears man” she patted his back and kept smoking her cigarette, legs crossed on the edge of the building they were on “I was once like you, you know, a scared little kitten”.

“And you overcame your fear by jumping off a building with a device wrapped around your legs that could stop working any moment? Great, just great” Gyro felt like he was almost regretting ever meeting her.

“C’mon those things are awesome and you got thrill issues too, you’re just closeted. I know it, I FEEL IT IN MY BONES YOU’LL LOVE IT, you’re scared because you know you want it. Now you can have it without dying dude. Now you got it” she patted his back not as fiercely as her words were sounding.

“I’ll do it for you” he kissed his knuckles and without a warning he jumped screaming “Pocahontaaas”

What a nerd. Gyro heard him scream enthusiastically from a couple of meters down. In a few minutes, he was back on the roof sitting next to her.

“That was awesome, don’t make me do it ever again” he lighted a smoke and watched the sunset. He looked good in orange lighting. She left the moment go, shoving the thousands of question she had down her throat. She was going to give him the space to enjoy The Freedom.

“Are you gonna give my armor back?” she asked eventually.

“Not while we’re still this high” he raised his eyebrows sarcastically. He then realized he wasn’t Hancock and stared back into the sunset.

“Ok you can keep it for now” said Gyro. She back flipped to stand on the roof and said “So anyway, yes, I can imagine a world in which we could just ignore Paladin Danse and think he was lame without having to blow him up because, you know, mass murder was illegal whatever your noble motivations were. I am from that world, I am the only piece of that world left. And I don’t care for it” she dramatically laid her hands on her hips.

“I feel bad for him. And Elder Maxson was kind of hot” he made a sad face, his eyebrows got real close to each other.

“You know I feel exactly the same” and she really did “But maybe they’re not dead and they’re doing butt stuff in a vertibird like, right now?” Gyro raised her shoulders enigmatically.

“Yeah but Elder Maxson should be dead because he was The Asshole” he said worried.

“That’s what Danse called him if you know what I mean” she could not help it.

“God, you are so Bad” Deacon laughed the smoke out of his lungs.

“Anyway” said Gyro doing a handstand “let’s do something, I feel so free right now. I can’t wait for radiation to stop my menstrual cycle” she started doing cartwheels.

“How can you always be in stream of consciousness mode?” said Deacon “how can I always be in that mode. Have you ever met James Joyce though?” he stood up and started stretching and warming himself up. Gyro was pretty sure he was about to try and be acrobatic and shit to be cool like her and that, was going to be funny.

“Bitch I’m old but I’m not that old” she started taking yoga positions “could I do this if I was old?” her limbs were all over the place. Deacon didn’t really know what to say.

“I’m just ignorant boss” he scratched his head while she continued assuming awkward positions. He was honestly enjoying that. He did a trembling handstand, his wig fell off his head, he got back on his feet and said “Okay let’s do something”.

“So tell me Deacon, if you lived in the old world what would have been your job?” she asked.

“Oh my god the possibilities were endless” he said all sparkly eyed.

“They really weren’t” said Gyro.                                                 

“I could have been a street kung fu performer” his eyes dreaming into the distance.

“That’s not really a job but alright” she shook her head laughing.

“I could have worn blue make up over my face and be an Avatar” he continued.

“Do you really think that was a job?” Gyro’s didn’t think she could still be amazed by someone’s bullshit.

“Or I could have traveled through videogames in neon motorcycles fighting with my sharp Frisbee” honestly how could have Deacon seen all these movies.

“When you die you should totally donate your brain to science” she said.

“Oooh I could have donated my brain to science alright” now he was trying too hard at keeping it weird.

Gyro was so bored she started shaking her legs in the air, her back laying on the floor. She was sure that in a world with laws Deacon would be the same borderline little shit she was. Lying to his parents ‘yes ma I totally got a job as a badass lawyer dude. I kicks ass’, lying to his friends ‘You know last night I first fucked Veronica and then Carla, high five bro, love you bro no homo’, lying to his lovers ‘Yo bitch I could totally be in a committed relationship with you and only you all my life’.  What a boring bane of existence.  
  
If only he knew what it was really like. If only he knew what she was really like back then. She was actually jealous of him. She was jealous of him and Barbara. She was the one he had something real with, something above what any other woman could ever bring to the table ever again. Or at least that was what she thought he thought. She figured he had this mental shrine to the Wasteland Goddess Barbara, while she was just Gyro, his weird profaned friend who wanted to be fucked in the ass by him.  That’s what you get when you finish second, she guessed. She was the woman who decided to marry the guy that didn’t scream to her face when she accidentally stabbed him because she felt excited about stuff with a knife in her hand.  
  
She was the woman that broke relationships off because guys wanted her to shave her legs. Barbara probably had perfect synth skin, nice dead-elephant ivory teeth, silky dead-girl brown hair and a charming happy-commercial-family-wife personality. She probably was a trademarked White-Girl while Gyro wanted to never work for the man, be a rebel, be a saint. Nobody was going to make head shrines for her. She could only chill on previous perfect wives head shrines, drink the wine, eat the bread and carry the emotional baggage. Work really hard to get the penis that felt like IT STILL BELONGED TO HER. Everything was terrible.

“Boss” said Deacon interrupting her train of thoughts.

“Yes?”

“I feel like you’re complaining right now” he said.

“Not out loud so I’m not annoying right?” he might have complained about her complaining a couple of times.

“First of all, you’re always annoying no matter what you do or don’t” Deacon was such pleasurable company.

“Second of all?” she asked sarcastically.

“Stop complaining” plain and simple.

“You just assumed I was. You can’t come into my mind and shame my stream of consciousness. Fuck you, fuck your Brahmin’

‘Leave my Brahmin out of this” he was laughing though.

“Anyway, I’d probably be a spy” said Deacon after a pause. Gyro looked him in the eyes. It was her turn to laugh.  
  
“Hell no you wouldn’t” she had tears in her eyes for laughing too much. Deacon was butt hurt in a corner.

“I mean you could have been a spy Archer style” she said.

“Who the hell is Archer?”

“An idiot” Gyro laughed again. Deacon was mad he found this Truth speaking asshole of a woman.

“C’mon let’s go” he said offering her a hand to get up. She grabbed it and got back on her feet “You know now that our job is over we could go on that epic sea adventure we always dreamed about? I always wanted to travel” he was smirking.

“Yeah sure, anytime” she would have loved to go on an epic sea adventure. But yeah, she fell in love with Mr. Railroad.  
  
“We could totally convince Ironsides to take us places. We could find the ghoul whale. Damn, I would love to see the ghoul whale” he laid on the rooftop with dreamy eyes. The night started to get chilly, Gyro rested her body against his to suck in the warmth.

“You’re a tease” she said touching his hand shyly. He smiled and intertwined his fingers with hers.  
  
“Why? I’m serious, we got the hats” he got a hat literally out of his ass and put it on Gyro’s head backwards.

“What about the Railroad?” she was sure this was a bullshit-time session.  
  
“They’re fine and I’m old, I have to retire. You got my pension covered, right?”  
  
“I got all the caps in the world. Almost. Yeah, not really.”  
  
“We won’t need caps at sea, we’ll discover new societies who use towels as currencies, we’ll venture deeper into the holes that time dug on the surface of the earth, we’ll delve into the mysteries of post-apocalyptic tourism baby. I want to know what Paris is all about, they communicated with Aliens there right? With the giant antenna thing?” he had his shades on his forehead and was looking at her right in the eyes. A habit he took recently. He was starting to almost, almost, use his sunglasses for their intended purpose only, instead of wearing them ridiculously everywhere.  
  
“Mh, I don’t know what kind of books you’ve been reading there Tinker Tom, but yeah, I like the spirit” she felt her energies fading away with the sun. Too much yoga probably.  
  
“You’re Italian right?” he asked. His tone different, more serious.  
  
“Yes, I am illegally here. Oops, not anymore, thank you apocalypse” she was very sleepy.  
  
“I wonder what happened there” he said.  
  
“Stuff” her eyes were impossible to keep open.  
  
“Do you think that the bombs fell there? If so, how big is the possibility that Italians are now radioactive pizza-people?” he poked her nose with his middle finger.  
  
“Probably 100%” she mumbled scratching her nose mid sleep.  
  
“Yeah I thought so too” she felt the smile in his voice, then he stood quiet and she fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, for everything


End file.
